Just Another Night
by doorslam
Summary: A fairly straightforward SR story, my first attempt at writing in the world.
1. The Hook

Just Another Night  
*** Chapter 1  - The Hook ***   
  
      Princess dropped down onto the couch with a satisfied sigh.  She pulled up the edge of the bandage on her left arm to check the progress on the bullet wound and was pleased to see that the healing spell seemed to have done its work.  Given another day, there wouldn't be so much as a scar left.  
      

She grabbed the remote and flicked on the trid display, switching over to matrix access mode.  Quickly scanning over her financials, she saw that Mr. Johnson had already deposited the Nuyen into the proper account.  Running the transfer software that Slander had given her, Princess moved the money through half a dozen shell companies and at least a dozen other nodes to put it nicely beyond reach in case he tried a double cross.  Not that she really thought it was likely; she'd done too much good work for Aztechnology for them to screw her over like that. 

      _You hope_, the niggling little voice in the back of her head reminded her.

      She quickly squashed that train of thought by reminding herself that the ten thousand nuyen bonus indicated a high level of satisfaction in her work by her corporate contacts and switched the trid over to the news.  Scanning the headlines, Princess started the playback on the sports recap and stretched up off the couch.  She walked down the hallway past her collection of Escher prints and made the left into the kitchen, glancing at the door to double-check that she'd remembered to set the security locks.

      Rummaging around in the cupboard, she pulled out, then put back a can of refried beans before finally deciding on the quick-mix chicken and rice.  She poured the contents into the rehydrator, punched the button and waited while the unit hummed.

      Suddenly, the trid chimed and the announcer cut off in the middle of the baseball scores. Princess jogged back to see the screen and grinned.  Though she had no idea who the leggy blond trying to keep her skirts from blowing up was, she did know the one person who used that image for Trid calls.

      "What's up, Slander?", Princess asked.

      "Got a job, if you're interested", a sultry voice replied. "Grab your toothbrush and your charms, it involves a trip.  Dancer and Beck are already on the hook, and they'll meet you at Matchsticks in an hour."

      Princes grimaced.  She liked working with Dancer, a raccoon shaman from the northern NAN territories, but Beck was always a hassle.  Not that he wasn't a professional, but the ork had a thing for elven women in general and her in particular.  She could look forward to a couple of gropes if they met up at the bar.

       Of course, he wasn't the only one who's amorous interests would be stymied.  She'd have to watch herself to keep from staring at Dancer's gorgeous, long, black hair and dark eyes.

      Unfortunately, Dancer would be slightly more interested in what was in Beck's pants than hers, which always made for amusing conversations.

      "Don't worry", Slander continued in the same, measured tones.  "I'm sure Beck will behave himself once the run gets started."

      "You seem pretty confident that I'll go along with this.  What's the job?"  


      "Very briefly", Slander replied, "the job is to break into the hold of a ship, subdue some guards, and rescue a prisoner."

      "Right. What's the catch?"

      "The catch is that this prisoner is a top-notch programmer.  He apparently created some code-morph algorithms for Sader-Krupp's AI division.  Rumor has it that another group of runners swiped some of the code and turned it over to Renraku.  You've heard about their...problem...in the Pyramid, of course.  Well, apparently some of this code got loose and played merry hell with the systems."

      "Nice", Princess said.  "And whoever's sending us out wants the programmer so he can keep that from happening with their stolen copy of the code?"

      "Got it in one, my girl.  Of course, the boat you're boarding is one of 'Raku's, who want this guy to come in and fix the damage after they, um, liberated him from Sader's employment." 

      "Well, if we're taking this guy - what's his name?"  


      "Brad Harrison", Slander supplied.

      "If this Brad guy's with Renraku, there's going to be some heavy opposition."

      "Yes, and there's one other little...snag.  You have to wait until the boat has docked.  My source tells me that they're going to keep Brad on board, since 'Raku can't risk letting anyone know they've got him, but they're going to run a hardlink out to him, so he can get in and fix the Arcology's systems."

      Princess frowned.  "Why should we let him help Renraku? I don't exactly get warm fuzzy thoughts when I look at all the crap they've done to me."

      "Because", Slander began, "if he doesn't fix the systems, the code might escape.  Then it will start wiping out other systems, possibly destroying the entire matrix, and bringing civilization down around our ears."

      "And that's a bad thing how?", Princess asked with a grin.

      Slander sighed.  "OK, how about this.  If the matrix falls apart, you don't get paid, and all your current accounts get wiped out."

      "Right. I'm all about that not happening."

      "I figured you would be. Matchstick's in an hour."

      "Hey, I just got back...", Princess trailed off as the blonde disappeared from her screen.  "Oh well, I guess real food is better than dehydrated soy  chicken anyhow."

© 2003 by Blake Sorensen


	2. The Line

Just Another Night  
*** Chapter 2 - The Line ***  
  
      Princess strolled through the front door of Matchstick's and glanced around the dimly lit room.  It always amazed her how the arrangement of half-walls, plants, and small fountains managed to give every booth a semblance of privacy in a crowded room.  Of course the fountains made a nice white noise background to help prevent eavesdropping, as well.  There were several small groups already seated, their faces shadowed from the flickering gas lamps hanging from the ceiling.

      She gave the maitre'd a pleasant smile. "I'm with the Johnson party."

      "Of course, ma'am."  The young man looked down, consulted his list, and then smiled.  "I'm sure you've already checked your weapons, so if you will follow me, please...?"

      The man led her toward one of the tables near the back of the room.  As she approached, she saw the back of Beck's trademark brown fedora above the rear wall of the booth.  Walking around she saw that Dancer was already there as well.  The lean Native American was wearing his usual leather shirt and jeans, belt adorned with turquoise stones and feathers.  Beck was seated on the opposite side of the curved table.  The ork was wearing a black silk shirt and black leather pants.

      'What is it about runners that they all seem to have a thing for black?', Princess thought to herself.  Her own silver form-hugging top made a startling contrast to the others' dark garb as she slid into the booth next to Dancer.

      Beck leered briefly at her breasts, then grinned.  "Good to see you again, sweetie."

      "Wish I could say the same," Princess replied with a shit-eater of her own.

      "Ahem", the fourth member of their party interrupted.  "Now that you are all present, I would like to begin.  Time is of the essence."

      "Of course", Dancer said with a slight smile.  His soft, clear spoken voice continued, "Isn't it always?"

      "Quite so."  The immaculately dressed man between Dancer and Beck gave a slight smile.  His perfectly tailored suit, again black, Princess noticed, looked promising.  It spoke of someone with money to spend – not necessarily their own money, she guessed, but a Corp's money was just as good.

      "Let me thank you all for coming," the man began.  "My name is, of course, Mr. Johnson.  I will be your sole contact with my employers, who obviously wish to ensure discretion.  I have already outlined these terms to Slander, who has agreed and will serve as your decker for this mission.

      "We will pay each of you 75,000 nuyen for the recovery of this man", Johnson said while placing a photograph from his briefcase on the table.  "He is to be unharmed and able to function.  No drugging, unless the effects wear off before he is handed over to us and cause no long term problems.  There will be a bonus of 25,000 nuyen if you can spirit him out of the ship without raising any external attention.  

      "Additionally, I have a set of micro-transceivers that will enable your penetration team to remain in contact with Slander.

      "The boat docks tonight, and Mr. Harrison should have completed his tasks at containing the rogue code within 24 hours. You will need to recover him as quickly after that happens as possible, as Renraku will likely move him back to Japan once he is finished.

      "The terms of this arrangement are non-negotiable.  Do you have any questions?"

      "What do we do with him once we've got him?", Beck asked, his heavy Brooklyn accent reminding Princess of an old gangster movie she'd seen a few weeks back.

      "Mr. Dancer should be able to get credentials for all of you to enter the  
Salish-Shidhe territories. You will bring Mr. Harrison to Vancouver in three days.  That will be...Friday, I believe. Arrive at this office", here he tossed a business card onto the table, "at 5 o'clock that evening."

      "What do we get up front?", Princess inquired.

      "20,000 now, the balance upon our receipt of Mr. Harrison."

      Princess glanced across at Beck. He grinned, waggling a tusk and causing the chain link pierced through it to jingle slightly. She turned to Dancer, who shrugged slightly.

      "It sounds like a deal", she said. 

      "Excellent." Mr. Johnson smiled broadly, and pulled three cred sticks from his pocket.  "Here is your advance. My number is on the card.  Please contact me if you have any questions.  Mr. Beck, if you would please excuse me...?"

      Beck grunted then slid out of the booth to let the older man out.

      "And of course", Mr. Johnson turned as he was leaving, "enjoy the  
meal on us."

© 2003 by Blake Sorensen


	3. The Sinker

Just Another Night

*** Chapter 3 - The Sinker ***

      The three runners reconvened at Princess's apartment after dinner.  Beck promptly sprawled on the couch while Dancer took a seat on the floor.

      "Slander, you there?" Princess called. 

      The trid screen flickered into life with an image of the same blonde woman, this time in a dress that looked like it had been sewn onto her and standing in front of an old microphone stand. 

"'Course I'm here.  This sounds like a fun one."

      "Yeah, says the one who never goes in herself," Beck groused.

      "Better sound more appreciative, there, or I won't give you all the stuff I've come up with so far," Slander replied.  "I've got blueprints of the ship - she's the Karato, by the way - and Raku's guard shift schedule."

      Dancer smiled at that.  "Impressive as ever.  What's the damage?"

      "At least a dozen shock troops on duty at all times, rotating shifts in thirds. They've got a hermetic somewhere, because there's always at least two elementals wandering about - water and air, right now, but there's been a fire one spotted as well."

      "In other words," Beck began, "a veritable cake-walk!" the four finished in unison.

"Aren't they all?" Princess mused.  "Dancer, you can handle the elementals, right?"

      "You have a doubt?  I may need Beck to keep one of them busy with his wonderful swordwork, but I should be able to neutralize them both within thirty seconds of spotting them.  You think the two of you can take out a dozen alert guards quietly?"

      "Quietly's no fun," Beck said with a grin. "But, with the bonus on the line, I suppose I can make an exception.  I was looking forward to a chance to try out my new Panther cannon, though.  The mark 4 is supposed to have almost 10% more range."

      Princess shook her head. "Not this time, gunboy. Besides, you don't want to sink the boat with us on it, do you?"

      Beck smirked. "Afraid to get your dainty little pointed ears wet?"

      "Not worried about me, but as much cyberware as you've got in, you'd sink like a stone. Don't suppose you've got a little propeller that pops out your..."

      "Okay folks", Slander interrupted.  "Can we get back to work?"

      "No, I'm curious now," Dancer said, turning to Beck with a smile. "Have you got a propeller that pops out..."

      "No, no, no. We are so not going there." Slander's sultry voice began to turn petulant. "Please?"  
      "All right," Princess said, "back to the plan.  Sounds like a pretty standard plan B exercise.  Dancer dispels the elementals before we get onto the boat, with Beck helping defend him using his sword focus.  The Hermetic will know it as soon as his elementals go down, so we'll have to move fast.  Hopefully, I'll be able to pick off some of the guards before that, but we can't count on having them in a good spot.  Slander, you'll have the comms from the ship blocked?"

      "You'll have five, ten minutes, tops, but yes.  Can't stop the mage if he goes astral, though."

      "I'll be ready for him," Dancer replied.

      "I think that's everything, then.  We'll meet back here tomorrow at 6 and head to the docks.  Beck, you've still got the Bulldog, right?"

      "Like I'd ever get rid of my van.  Let's try not to get any holes shot in it this time, all right?"

            *           *           *           *  


      The dark grey van coasted to a stop next to a warehouse, DB-94, serving pier 23.  Beck cut the engine; the lights had been turned out two blocks back.

"There she is", he growled.

      Looking out across the dock, he pointed at the long tanker moored at the next pier to the right.  The Karato had the steady green and white running lights of a docked ship at her bow and stern, but was otherwise devoid of any signs of life.  With a thought, Beck clicked his cybereyes into nightscope mode and looked the ship over again.  Now he saw the guards, all in pairs, stationed at various places around the deck.  One set at the bow, another pair at the boarding ramp, two outside the door of the wheelhouse, and finally, four around the mammoth loading doors in the center.

      "Ten guards topside.  No laser based sensors on the ship or the dock", he said, completing his scan.

      Dancer had a look of concentration on his face, and his eyes twitched behind closed lids as he astrally surveyed the area.  "I see two elementals – a hothead hovering over the loading doors, and a water elemental floating just off the bow."

      Princess listened to each in turn, then said, "Okay. Dancer send off your watcher to distract the fire elemental when I give the word, then you and Beck head for the loading ramp.  I'll be on top of the warehouse to cover you and let you know if that water elemental spots you.  Slander, you've got the jamming up?"

      Each heard Slander's sensual voice from their transceivers.  "You're all clear, kids.  Worst case, no transmission's coming off that boat for five minutes."

      Without a further word, Princess slid the side door of the van open and sprinted across the parking lot to the weather-beaten building. A few seconds later, she slipped through the door and into the darkness inside.

      Beck and Dancer looked at each other, then took their own leave of the van, heading towards the boat.  Along the way, Dancer threw up a quick invisibility shield to keep the guards from getting a lucky sight of the intruders.  The two stationed themselves behind a storage shed near the ramp, just in time.  They both heard Princess say "now" in their radios, and Dancer sent a mental command to the Watcher spirit he had standing by.  

It arrived on the physical plane and flew up and over the boat, turning to give the fire elemental a raspberry.  Dancer felt a momentary stab of pity for the watcher; stupid the creature might be, but that was a heavy force fire elemental, and it wouldn't take long for the spirit to be smashed into the nothingness from which he created it.  But, he reflected, it had done its job, for the elemental was giving chase across the bay.

      From atop the warehouse, Princess watched the fire elemental take off with her own astral senses, then let her perceptions slide back into the physical plane, taking careful aim at the first of the two ramp guards through her scope. A brief squeeze of the trigger, a tiny hiss of air from her recoil suppressor, and one of the Renraku goons was on the ground.  Less than a tenth of a second later, thanks to her magically enhanced reflexes, the other half of the pair joined him.

      "Go", she said, switching her sights to the four around the central doors.

      By the time Beck and Dancer had made it to the top of the ramp, all ten guards were down, never to stir again.  The two cautiously made their way to the personnel access doors and crept down into the hold.  Beck strained his enhanced hearing, but could pick up no indication of further guards in the dark bowels of the ship.  Fortunately, neither needed the light - Beck made use of his cybereyes' night-vision capability and Dancer's own magically enhanced senses operated on a different level of reality entirely.

      Suddenly Beck stiffened, hands grasping at his throat and making a choking noise.  Dancer spun around from watching their rear to see an air elemental constricting itself around his companion.  He quickly grabbed at his belt, pulling off the pewter turtle talisman and summoning its power to him. 

      As Dancer spread his hands, letting the magical energies build, Beck drew his sword and sliced through the empty space in front of him.  Dancer saw the elemental recoil slightly as the magical focus transcended the physical plane to strike directly at the elemental's spiritual energy.

      "Good job!" Dancer shouted.  "You weakened him!"

      "Gark!" Beck replied.

      "I'm on it, don't worry," Dancer said as he thrust his hands towards the creature.  A pale yellow glow emanated from his hands and spread towards Beck.  As the sphere of light blossomed, the elemental shrank into itself.  Beck's strikes became more forceful as his air supply was restored, and the elemental evaporated under the onslaught, disappearing from Dancer's sight with an inrush of magical energy.

      Beck collapsed to the deck, holding his throat in his hands and gasping for breath. 

"Is it, hurh, hurh, gone?"

      "Yep," Dancer replied, putting his hand on Beck's shoulder. "Take a second and then we'll continue."

      "I'm fine," Beck snarled, straightening up. "Let's get this over with."

      Dancer grinned and extended his arm. "After you."

      The two made their way to the end of the hallway and sidled against the wall on either side of the final door.  Beck held out his hand, thumb extended sideways. Dancer replied with a signal of his own - three fingers up, then two, then one...

      Beck spun and kicked the door open, pistol at the ready, as he leapt through the opening.  Dancer stayed outside, watching the hallway, as Beck finished eyeing the room. 

      "Mr. Harrison?" Beck addressed the young blonde chained to the desk in front of him.

      "I suspect that I better be," the man replied, warily watching Beck's gun.

      Beck grinned. "Damn skippy. Let's go, you're working for a new employer."  Beck grabbed the handcuffs, snapping the chain with his bare hands.

      Harrison stood, rubbing his wrists. "Oh joy, another one."

      As Beck led the man out of the room, Dancer got on the com.  "We clear out there, Princess?  We've got him and we're on our way out."

      "No sign of anything topside.  Let's get him loaded in the van and get the hell out of here."

© 2003 by Blake Sorensen


	4. The Catch

Just Another Night  
*** Chapter 4 - The Sinker ***  


       "This'll teach me to try for the patent filing bonus."

       Brad Harrison was tied to the only chair in the dingy, moldy smelling motel room.  He looked somewhat the worse for the wear after riding for four hours on the floor of a van - his long blond hair was grubby and matted, and grease stained his pleasant features.  "As soon as my name gets out, I get kidnapped.  Then again, two days later.  Now you guys."

       "Wait a second," Princess interrupted.  "You were kidnapped before Renraku got ahold of you?"

      "Yeah, by Aztechnology goons.  They wanted to take me down and beef up their Arcology's security.  Some really freaky guy grabbed me on my lunch break.   Had the strangest eyes I'd ever seen, slitted like a cat's."

      "Door," Princess muttered, "I've met him.  What happened?"

      "He delivered me to the airport, turned me over to his friends, and left.  The plane was hijacked by the Renraku guys and I got dumped on the ship, where I've been coding for the past week.  Hey, I don't suppose you've got any food?  I'm tired of soy noodles."

      "Oh, I'll just call room service," Beck quipped. "I'm sure they'll be right up with some real steak and potatoes."  

      Harrison glared at him.  "No need to get snippy."

      "Just remember, you're worth more alive to us than dead right now, but our employers are just as willing to settle for denying your services to their competitors.  Ask them for food when you get to them."

      "Try and be a little nicer, Beck. He's been through a lot."  Dancer stood up from his seat on the floor and pulled a granola bar out of one of his belt pouches. "This is all I've got, but it's real oats and raisins."

      "Thanks."  Brad smiled up at him, and the smile slid into a different type of grin as Dancer walked over to him and met his eyes.  The two stared at each other, grinning, for a few seconds before Beck interrupted.

      "You two mind? I think I'm gonna puke over here."

      Princess looked at Dancer with an expression of warning, but didn't say anything.  Dancer rolled his eyes, but handed the snack over and turned

back to the bed. 

      "You two are no fun at all."

      "You know better," Princess replied.  "We hand him over tomorrow morning, assuming these passes you got us for the tribal lands are good."

      "They'll work.  Trust me." Dancer quirked a corner of his mouth as he lay down on the bed.  "Now, I think I'll grab a nap, I'm still a little worn out from saving Beck's life earlier tonight."

      "Yeah, yeah, blow it out yer ass," Beck muttered.

      Princess grinned and started cleaning her rifle.

      *           *           *           *

      Beck hustled Harrison out of the motel room and into the back of his dull grey van.  The pale shadows of the pre-dawn hours created constant movements out of the corner of his eye, and his honed reflexes quickly analyzed and dismissed each potential threat.

      Brad took a seat in the rear of the vehicle staring out the window and away from the door as Beck slammed it shut.  Hearing a muffled thump, Brad quickly turned to look back towards the motel. He saw nothing, however, and so closed his eyes to try and catch a little more sleep.

      Princess and Dancer came outside, carrying the last of their bags. Princess frowned, gazing around.  

      "Where did Beck get to?" she asked her captive as she opened the door.

      "Why should I care?," he retorted, a sour expression on his face.

      "You shouldn't," Beck replied as he walked around the corner of the building. "As for your question, Princess, I was asking the desk guy if there was anywhere around here to grab some munchies."

      Princess nodded to Beck with a grin. "Good idea, I think Dancer is out of granola bars."

      "Hmph. See if I share even if I do have some," Dancer replied as he climbed into the van.

      "Doesn't matter anyhow," the orc snapped. "There's nothing else before we hit the Nations. We'll just have to hope our employers have something for us." He twisted the key and the engine grumbled to life. "Let's get this over with."

      He steered the van out of the gravel lot and back onto the freeway.

      "Where are we going once we hit the border?  I'm sticking to 84 until you say otherwise."  Beck threw a glance over his shoulder at Dancer.  "You do know the way, don't you?"

      Dancer scowled. "I told you last night.  Get off 84, just before we get to Tir, onto old highway 12.  We'll take it over into Tucannon and hit the checkpoint after about 10 kilometers.  Johnson said the meeting would be at an office in town.  Do I need to continue, or is that enough for the next three hours of driving?"

      "Yeah, that'll do," Beck said, never taking his eyes off the road.

      Dancer shook his head, then closed his eyes and leaned back.

      Princess turned to look out the window, staring at the trees that lined the highway.  She imagined them as they once were, lush and green, but living downwind of the industrial plants of Seattle, they were now barren and brown.  She sighed, and turned back around to look at Brad.  She started to ask how he was, but froze as she opened her mouth.

      "Company," she snarled, looking at the black sedan that was rapidly catching up to them.

      "Yeah," Beck replied, continuing to stare at the road.  "I noticed them about ten minutes ago, while you were admiring the trees."

      "Why didn't you say anything, then?", Dancer growled.

      "Trying to keep a sense of optimism," Beck deadpanned.

      Dancer frowned. "Not your strong point."

      "Fortunately, I know what is," Beck said as he began slowing the van down.

      Princess shot him a concerned look. "What are you doing?"

      "Going with my strong points.  Plan A all the way."

      Princess blinked a couple times, then groaned.

      Dancer shook his head. "No, Beck, we don't know for sure that they're after us..."

      As the van coasted to a stop, the following car pulled up behind them, and three men in suits climbed out.

      "Get ready to open the door," Beck said as he rummaged around in the canvas bag behind his seat.

      Princess just winced and closed her eyes.

      "I told you I had been looking for a chance to use this."  Beck grinned as a long metal tube emerged from the bag, followed by a large handle.

      Brad's eyes widened. "Is that a panther cannon?"

      "Yes," Princess and Dancer replied, with a common note of dread.

      "You can't seriously mean to fire that in here," Dancer said, staring at Beck.

      "Like I said, get ready to open the door.  And there are earplugs in the bag."

      The men from the car were reaching into their jackets and starting to walk towards the van.  Dancer and Princess pulled out the ear plugs, and Dancer stuffed some in Brad's ears as well.

      Dancer glanced at Beck. "None for you?"

      "I want the full experience," he said with the grin. "The aural dampeners will protect me anyhow. Get ready."

      Dancer sighed and lay down at the back door as Beck hefted the cannon and sighted down the barrel.

      "Now!" Beck yelled, and Dancer kicked the handle of the back door, swinging it open wide. There was a bright flash, and a thunderclap that left them all gasping for breath and momentarily blinded, followed by yet another explosion as the car, and its former occupants, became one with their environment.

      "WHAT?!" Dancer yelled, after his eyes cleared and Beck mouthed something at him. He pulled at the earplugs, and found that the pressure of the shockwaves had pushed them further into his ears than he intended. After some tugging, however, they came out, only slightly deformed.

      "Explosive rounds," Beck said with an ear-to-ear grin.

      "Um, duh," Dancer nodded to him.  "I sort of noticed when the car turned into a ball of rapidly expanding plasma."

      Princess rolled her eyes. "Can we go now?"

      *           *           *           *

Beck pulled the van into the parking lot of an incongruously modern looking three-story office building in Tucannon.  Whereas most of what they had passed in town had been, at best, hopelessly out-of-date and, more often, barely standing, this building was made of sleek ceramasteel.  Beck's trained and enhanced eyes revealed the security monitors that surrounded the entire complex, and he nodded approvingly.

"Assuming they didn't bring us here to betray us, it should go okay from here."

Dancer glanced at him.  "What was I saying earlier about you and optimism?"

"Well, I'll hope it goes well, if that's okay with both of you," Princess remarked as she strapped a knife into her ankle sheath.

"And the knife, of course, in case it doesn't."  Beck smirked.

"Nothing wrong with being optimistic as long as you're practical about it," she retorted.

The quartet walked into the office, where Mr. Johnson was sitting in a comfortable looking chair.  His suit was as immaculate as when they last saw him, at Matchstick's, only this time in a dark navy blue.  He smiled as they came in the door.

"Excellent. I hope they treated you well, Mr. Harrison?"

"As well as can be expected, I guess." Brad shrugged. "Could use something to eat, though."

"Certainly, I will have something prepared for you. If you would permit me..."

Mr. Johnson pulled out a small id scanner and pressed it against Brad's thumb, the young man wincing as it drew a blood sample.

Johnson checked the readout, smiled, and reiterated, "Excellent. Well done, thank you." He smiled at Dancer, Princess, and Beck in turn, and handed each of them a black credstick. 

"The balance of your payment for a superb job, with full

bonus."

Each member of the team checked the balance readouts; Dancer and Princess surreptitiously, Beck squinting at the numbers closely. They each nodded.

"Lovely doing business with you," Dancer said with a smile. He turned to Harrison and murmured "And you have my number." With a wink, he turned and walked out.

Beck rolled his eyes and followed without a word.

Princess bowed to Johnson, then to Harrison. "Good luck," she said before walking out.

      *           *           *           *

Princess dropped down onto the couch in her apartment with a content smile and just a small groan.  The job had gone well, her bank account had grown considerably, and she was looking forward to some rest.  She flipped the trid display on just in time to catch the end of a newscast reporting that the computer troubles in the Renraku Arcology seemed to have been corrected, and that business for the company was returning to normal.

She stood up, walked into the kitchen, and looked around. _This deserves something special_, she thought. Opening the small freezer, she pulled out a small, cylindrical package. 

_New York__ Double Chocolate.__ From real, honest-to-Maker milk._

The decadence struck her as she opened the package and the creamy smell hit her, and she giggled as she pulled out a spoon.  She took the carton back into the living room and settled down on the couch, luxuriating in the intensely cold flavor. She flipped through several trid channels to find something appropriate and settled on "Homes of the Corporate Execs".

Leaning back on the couch, she closed her eyes and savored the feeling of being able to simply lean back and relax.  

Then, the screen began to flicker with an incoming call.

"Hi, Princess," a sultry voice greeted. "I've got another job, if you're interested..."

© 2003 by Blake Sorensen


End file.
